Why do you always get sick on vacation?

After the past couple of crazy weeks, I finally have a few days off in a row to rest, take care of myself, and pursue my own endeavors. So what happens the first day? Sore throat. Wicked bad sore throat. The kind where if I’m not constantly swallowing and eating ice cream and downing liquids then it just might close up and I might die. It hurts a little bit.

One of my two spoiled rotten cats is sick too. Cheetara’s been sniffling, she has a weepy eye, and I can hear her wheezing. She’s normally my cuddler. She’s the one I call my teddy bear because she wants to sleep in my arms every night. And if my arms are busy with a book or with Bear, then she’ll back her little fuzzy body up into mine and spoon me. But now that she’s not feeling well, the cuddle factor has been upped dramatically. Whenever she goes into heat it’s the same routine. She just wants to be held and wants me to make her feel better. Which I understand because currently? I just want to be held and want Bear to make me feel better. So Cheetara and I are making do with each other. She sneezes and I cough and we both snuggle down under the blanket with a heating pad – me underneath it and Cheetara balancing on top.

In other news – Dr. I’mnotlooking’s office called me a few days ago to schedule my surgery and a few appointments before that. I got out my calendar and flipped immediately to the back. I was just grateful I wouldn’t be shunted around from department to department and doctor to doctor like I was last time. The last time I had this surgery, I also had to wait about six months to get in, which I was expecting to have to wait again.

Imagine my surprise when I got my lap date and it turned out to be – March 10th. That’s three weeks away. THREE WEEKS!! THREE WEEKS AND I’LL BE HEALED!! The doctor’s office called back a few days later to reschedule and I nearly flipped. “Oh, no,” I thought, “I don’t care if someone made a mistake. You gave me this day and I’M KEEPING THIS DAY!” But they only meant to bump me back 45 minutes. Which is actually even better for me because then I get 45 more minutes of sleep. Although, who am I kidding. Like I’ll be sleeping the night before.

So now that this timeline is so rushed, it’s forcing all our other timelines to compress. Now we have to buy a new car so I can go out and get a job. Barf. A JOB. Sigh. The money would be really nice, and it will probably be good that I’ll occasionally be leaving the house, but I’ve grown to really like it at home. I like getting up when I can and writing and creating and being a homemaker and going to sleep when I’m tired instead of when I should.

But, I also like the idea of owning my own house and having a baby, so it’s back to work for me. Hopefully I’ll be able to find something around here that makes it worth it.


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